Home Is Where the Heart Is
by Sang-Argente
Summary: 6x04 tag. LJG/AD SLASH. Tony knows he wants Gibbs, Jackson knows Tony wants Gibbs. The question is, what does Gibbs want? And will he ever get it? A somewhat convoluted exposition to a simple relationship. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is my first NCIS fic. It will be kind of AU, kind of OOC, and mucho slashy. Of the Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Anthony DiNozzo variety. But not for a long time. Sooo...enjoy!**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (spelling/grammar fix, sentence rearrangement)  
**

* * *

Tony grinned widely as he took in the scenery of Stillwater. He still couldn't believe that he was here, in Gibbs's hometown. He didn't get much time to really let it soak in, though, since Ziva informed him that Gibbs was waiting on him.

He followed McGee's finger and entered the rustic store cautiously. Relaxing at the sight of a familiar-in-a-way face, he smiled again.

The old man at the counter raised an eyebrow, a half-grin flitting across his face. "Hello," the man said slowly, secretly amused.

Tony bounced up to the counter and held his hand up. "Hi, I'm-"

"DiNozzo!"

Whirling around, Tony blanked his face, not wanting Gibbs to see the joy on his face.

"Court order." Gibbs grunted.

Tony held out the sheet of paper in his hand and explained what it was for, all the while shifting his gaze from Jackson Gibbs to his son. "Ah...Winslow residence, Winslow Mining including employees, Nick Kingston...Emily Kingston...Chris...Kingston..."

Jackson spoke up from behind Tony, his voice incredulous. "You got a court order for a five year old?"

"Five and three-quarters," Gibbs corrected, reading over the order. "Have Abby set up here. We'll bring her evidence."

Jackson turned and reached for the Winchester that was hanging on the wall. However when Gibbs reached for it, he pulled it back. "Ah!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and sighed while Tony watched the scene with a fond smile.

"Take Ziva and McGee to the mine; I got the residence," Gibbs ordered, walking off.

Tony stopped him before he could get out the door. "Well, we got a problem, Boss. Er...only one car." He held up his hand with a solitary finger sticking up to illustrate the problem.

Once more, Jackson butt in. "I got a car."

As Tony watched Gibbs and Jackson walk away together, he couldn't help but wonder why Gibbs never mentioned his dad when it was obvious he was so awesome.

-/-

Later that night, after the crime had been solved and Team Gibbs was all ready to head back to D.C., Jackson stopped them.

"Well, now, there ain't no use heading out tonight, is there?" he turned to his son. "It's late and you've all had a long day. You might as well stay here for the night."

Ziva stepped up, a little nervous but determined. "He has a point, Gibbs. McGee and I are still checked in at the motel and I am sure it would not be a problem for Abby to share my bed."

McGee nodded. "If you don't mind, Boss."

Flinching at the never-ending exclusion, Tony stood away from the group, eyes downcast, and stayed silent. Jackson looked at him sadly, then pasted a fake smile on his face.

"And Tony here can stay with me," he finished brightly. At his son's stare, he stopped and amended his statement. "If you choose not to leave tonight, Leroy."

Gibbs swept his eyes over the group and took in their pleading expressions, especially Abby's extreme puppy dog look. "All right," he sighed. "But we're leaving no later then 12:00 tomorrow, understand?"

A chorus of "Yes, Boss"s flooded his ears and he watched as Ziva, Abby, and McGee raced out the door. Gibbs then turned to Tony. "Looks like you wasted the trip up here, DiNozzo."

"Yeah," Tony's voice cracked as Gibbs turned to walk out. "Looks like."

The door shut behind the man and Tony turned to Jackson. "It was nice of you to offer, Jackson, really, but I'm sure there wouldn't be a problem with me bunking with McGee."

"No," Jackson said as he scrutinized Tony's half-defeated look. "Of course there isn't. That's why the offer was never put on the table. You always let them treat you like that, son?"

Opening his mouth, Tony realized that the honest answer to that question wasn't quite what he wanted to say. He sighed and sat at the table, putting his head in his hands.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Jackson, pulling out another chair and sitting down across from the younger man. "And Leroy too?"

"What about...uh..." Tony grinned slightly. "Leroy?"

Jackson laughed, "Betcha like not calling him 'Boss', don't you?"

Tony kept grinning, feeling a little safer, a little happier, around the older Gibbs than he had in a long time. "It is fun, but I never try to do it when we're in a Boss/DiNozzo situation."

Laughing again, Jackson's face got serious. "You know what I mean, Tony. Do you always let Leroy treat you like his pet? And I don't mean in the kinky kind of way."

Flushing darkly, Tony gaped at Jackson, who just raised his eyebrows. "Why, Jackson Gibbs, I'm shocked! Did you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I may be old, son, but I'm certainly not blind," Jackson growled playfully. "I can see how times are changing."

The silly grin that had slipped onto Tony's face dropped a little while the happiness in his eyes died. "Yeah," he said quietly, a wistful sadness lacing his words. "They are, aren't they?"

Jackson nodded shortly and watched as Tony shifted uneasily. "Hey now, this ain't an interrogation. You can relax."

"It's just...these chairs aren't that comfortable and the way you're sitting across from me makes it feel like it is. An interrogation, I mean."

"Well, come on," Jackson ordered, standing from his own chair. "Let's go to my place and get comfortable."

"There's that mouth again," Tony quipped lightly, enjoying the freedom he felt around the older Gibbs.

Jackson turned slowly from where he had his hand on the door. "Do you enjoy almost giving me a heart attack, boy?" he asked, shocked. "If I were a bit younger, I'd let you see just what this mouth can do."

And with that, he pushed his way out of the store, Tony following behind, laughing hysterically.

-/-

"So," Jackson began, setting a steaming cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of Tony.

Tony cracked open his heavy eyes and smiled in thanks, grabbing the cup and letting it simply warm his hands for a minute. He sighed, relaxing into the plush couch, and said, "So, what?"

Jackson settled in beside him with his own cup of cocoa. "What's your story?"

"What do you mean?"

Turning towards the boy fully, Jackson gave him an intense look that reminded Tony of the younger Gibbs.

So he sighed and let it all out. He told Jackson about his mother with her alcoholism and sailor suits, his father with his superiority complex and poverty, and how they both hated him enough to beat him and send him away. He talked about his terrible years at military school, and later college. His dreams of pro sports was briefly glossed over as he went into his years at Peoria, then Philadelphia, then Baltimore.

With a small, sad smile, he told Jackson about meeting the younger Gibbs for the first time. He talked about their two years as a two-man team and how much he had liked it that way. Then he touched on his time with the plague and how he had thought that was the end, but when Gibbs had ordered him not to die, he couldn't not obey.

A tissue box made its way into Tony's lap as he talked about Kate, their sibling rivalry, how he would always miss her, and how much he wished he had gotten the chance to tell her what she meant to him. He talked about McGee and how he always felt a little frightened around the Junior Agent because it constantly felt like he was trying to take Tony's job. Talking about Ziva brought up all the horrible memories of that stupid dinner party and Israel and how he couldn't trust her now, if he ever could. He barely touched on Abby and how they were close but he couldn't tell her anything really important because she would run and tell Gibbs.

Then he wound the conversation down to happier, more enjoyable memories, of which there were few. He told Jackson hilarious stories about his and Fornell's unexpected friendship, his slow nights with Jimmy Palmer, and the occasional game of chess with Ducky.

"...so even if it gets bad, I know that at least half of them are there for me," Tony finished, balling a tissue in his hand. He felt as if he could just cry for hours more, but there wasn't any tears left.

"Oh, Tony..." Jackson wrapped his arms around the lean younger man and brought him into a tight embrace. "I'm so proud of you. You've been through so much and still haven't given up."

"I can't," Tony croaked into Jackson's shoulder, his throat dry and raw from talking so much. "Gibbs...he won't let me."

Jackson pulled back and tipped Tony's head up so that they would be looking eye to eye. "I noticed you didn't talk about him much."

"There isn't much to say," Tony replied, looking away and trying to brush it off.

"While there might not be much to say, there's obviously something."

Tony fingered a small rip in the couch's upholstery. "Only one thing."

He shivered slightly and tried to steel himself. He had already told Jackson so much, why not tell him this last thing?

A strong, wrinkled hand came to rest on his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me, Tony. I already know."

Tony eyed Jackson warily, his body tense. "And?"

Jackson contemplated it seriously, running a finger over the rim of his long cold mug of cocoa. "I think Leroy must be blind and stupid not to see that you love him. I think that you would be good for him, but I'm not sure he's the best for you. You need someone who deserves you, Tony."

A sheen of tears appeared over Tony's eyes and he opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say. Thankfully, Jackson came to the rescue again.

"And," he said, standing and wincing as his knees popped. "I think it's way past your bed time. Up the stairs, second door on the left. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'll just clean up down here before I head up there." He motioned to the half-empty mugs and the crumpled tissues that littered the couch.

Tony, deciding to just put the whole night behind him, smirked slyly and said, "Only if you were younger, Jack."

Jackson laughed heartily and swiped at him with his hand. "Away with you! We'll talk in the morning."

Taking the stairs two at a time, Tony reached the top before calling back down. "Oooh, I've never been very good at morning afters."

The laughter put such a happy smile on Tony's face that it stayed there all through the night.

-/-

The next morning, Tony bounced down the stairs energetically, feeling the effects of a restful night of sleep for the first time in a long time. As he reached the bottom, he was greeted with Jackson's smiling face and a white sweater.

"Here," Jackson said, helping Tony put on the sweater. "This will keep you warm through the chilly morning. Go ahead and keep it, just to have a little piece of me with you back in D.C."

Tony fingered the light, fluffy fabric and tried futilely to speak around the lump that appeared in his throat. "Th...thanks, Jack."

"No problem, son," Jackson said, smiling at him proudly.

And later that day, as the team drove away from the little glimpse of Gibbs's past, Tony couldn't bring himself to feel like he was really leaving. Especially when he looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the wave that he instinctively knew Jackson was sending for his benefit.

_'Don't worry, Jack,' _Tony thought as he remembered his last private conversation with Gibbs's dad. _'I won't forget to call when I get home.'_

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**A/N: So didja like it? Please REVIEW and tell me if you did. It gives inspiration.**

**~S.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chapter. Basically just Tony's return home. Note- this is a SLASH story and will feature man/man loving. This chapter mentions SLASH. Just be warned. Enjoy!**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (spelling/grammar fix, sentence rearrangement)  
**

* * *

It was dark by the time Tony made it to his apartment. The bleak starless sky coupled with the silent ride back from Stillwater was a harsh reminder that, even though Jack saw through his mask, he was alone here in D.C.

He stumbled as he entered his apartment, cursing when he hit his elbow on the door frame. Flicking the light switch, Tony grimaced as he was faced with his near-sterile living room. "You should really paint the walls or something, DiNozzo," he muttered to himself as he closed the door.

Carefully, he stepped to the left to slip off his shoes and socks, tucking them away on a low shelf and hanging his bag on a hook above that. As he was walking to the couch, he noticed a bright red four on his telephone/answering machine, signaling his four new messages. Tony sighed and walked over to it, pressing the Play button before walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine. He deserved it after the past two days.

"You've reached Anthony DiNozzo..."

Tony ignored the greeting as he pulled out a bottle of La Spinetta Sassontino 2004, intent on just soothing the day's hurts. He tuned back into the answering machine as he pulled down a glass and uncorked the bottle.

"Wednesday, October 15, 2008," the machine droned. There was a click and the Director's strong baritone came from the speaker. "Agent DiNozzo, please see me in my office before you return to work after your little field trip to Pennsylvania. We have something urgent to discuss."

Tony sighed, straightening from where he was putting the wine back in the refrigerator, and moved to the couch with his glass in hand. As he swallowed a thick, heady mouthful, his left hand shot out to press the Delete button and he committed the meeting with Vance to his memory.

"Wednesday, October 15, 2008," the machine repeated before a sweet soprano reached Tony's ears. "Mr. DiNozzo, this is Michelle Ryker with O'Feely, Praxton, and Ryker. I'm calling in concern of the last changes made to your Will. Also, a Leon Vance has informed us that you will be needing legal counsel within the next few days. He sounded urgent on the phone. Please call us as soon as possible."

Tony groaned as he thought about the implications of Vance calling his lawyers. He paused the message playback and opened the drawer under the answering machine, smiling lightly when the smell of sawdust drifted up from the open drawer to assault his senses.

He'd had this end table handmade by an old man down in Richmond the weekend after he moved to D.C. The smell of fresh sawdust creeping through his apartment reminded Tony of Gibbs-of happiness and hope and love and lust-so he employed the same old man to craft a bedroom suite of a bed frame, vanity, and nightstand. Just to make sure the smell never faded, Tony asked for the leftover wood shavings which he then bagged and tucked into various corners of the apartment. To some people it might have seemed obsessive, maybe even stalker-like, but to Tony it was just a way to cope with not having Gibbs.

Breaking out of his thoughts of Gibbs and how delicious he smelled, Tony grabbed his address book out of the drawer and flipped to the Rs. He knew Mrs. Ryker had an all-hours number somewhere. Picking up the phone, he quickly punched the number in and listened to it ring on the other end.

Finally, there was a click as the phone was answered.

"Ryker speaking."

Reminded of Gibbs again, Tony smiled as he replied, "Michelle? It's Anthony DiNozzo. I'm calling to ask if you're free for counsel tomorrow at 07:00?"

There was a quiet flipping of pages before an answer came. "Yes, but I'll have to be back at the office before nine. Is that acceptable?"

"More than," Tony said. "I doubt I'll need your counsel for long."

"Very well, Anthony," said Michelle. "Where should I meet you?"

"I'll meet you at the firm at 06:30 and then we can drive to N.C.I.S. headquarters, if that's all right."

"Of course," Michelle replied. "Tomorrow at 06:30. Should I bring Rebecca and Bridget?"

Tony grinned at the thought of walking into N.C.I.S. with the beautiful trio of O'Feely, Praxton, and Ryker.

"Yes, just in case. I don't really know what we're up against," he answered, his grin falling into a more confused expression.

Michelle hummed. "Leave it all to us, Anthony," she said reassuringly. "You've got the best and fiercest on your payroll. It'll be fine."

Exhaling heavily, Tony said, "Thanks, Michelle. I know the three of you will take care of it. See you in the morning."

"06:30," Michelle confirmed. There was a short pause and then her voice came back over the line, lighter and more playful. "Hey, Anthony? Since we'll be at N.C.I.S. anyway, how about you introduce us to your Gibbs?"

Flushing deeply, Tony shot off a quick "Goodnight, Michelle." before placing the phone back in its cradle, effectively ending the conversation. He pressed the Play button again to restart the message playback.

"Thursday, October 16, 2008," the machine intoned before Jack's voice filled the room.

"Hey, Loverboy," the message started, pulling a tired grin from Tony as he relaxed into the couch, finishing off his wine. "I know you just left but I wanted to make sure you don't forget to call me when you get home so. . .don't forget to call me when you get home!"

There was an abrupt click then the starting of the last message.

"Tony?" Jack's voice was a little worried. "Tony, please call. It's been ten hours since you left and it shouldn't have taken you any longer than five to get back home! I'm getting a little worried-"

Tony grabbed the phone, cutting the message off, and punched in Jack's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jack," Tony replied, his voice quiet with exhaustion.

"Loverboy!" Jack greeted, the old man's voice gleeful. "Where ya been? It's been hours since you should have made it home."

Tony winced at the lingering worry in Jack's voice.

"Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "Gibbs. . .er, Leroy made us go to the office to work reports on the case. He wouldn't let us leave until he thought they were perfect."

Jack grumbled, "Bet he would've if he knew you'd be crawling into his bed when you left."

"Jack!" Tony chided, his face flooding with color again. At this rate, he'd have a permanent blush. "Does your son know you talk like that?"

"Well it's true!" the old man replied. "Nothing would get him to let you off work quicker."

Tony sighed, "I doubt that."

Mimicking Tony's sigh, Jack asked, "How was the ride home?"

"Terrible," Tony winced in memory. "I kept looking in the mirror to see Ziva and McGee shooting me dirty looks and Abby looked like she was about to explode from all the questions she didn't have the nerve to ask. By the time we got to headquarters, I was ready to shoot someone. Preferably myself."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't."

"Why's that?" Tony asked, standing to take his glass to the kitchen. He quickly washed it and placed it in the cabinet overhead, unable to leave it in the sink all night.

"I was hoping you would come up to Stillwater and join a lonely old man for Thanksgiving," Jack explained.

Tony blinked, feeling confused, shocked, and flattered all at the same time. He hesitantly asked, "You want me to come stay with you for Thanksgiving?"

"Sure," Jack replied easily. "I doubt Leroy'll be coming up to visit any time soon. He's still too lost in his grief."

Confused, Tony prodded, "Grief?"

Jack hummed, "Over Shannon and Kelly."

"Oh!" The younger man gasped, ashamed that he had forgotten.

"But if he does decide to come up, I still want you here."

"I'd understand if you want to spend time alone with your son, reconnecting," Tony said quietly.

"No, Tony, that's not how it works," said Jack. "We're friends now and I invited you. I'll invite Leroy. Whoever accepts is who's coming. I'm not going to choose between the two of you."

"Even though we only met yesterday?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Think of it as. . .friendship at first sight," suggested Jack.

Laughing happily, Tony said, "All right, I'd be honored to spend Thanksgiving with you, Jack."

"Good. Now, it's getting late and you sound like you've had a long day. Call me when you get the chance, just to let me know you're not dead or anything."

"Now there's a pleasant thought to have before falling asleep," Tony said dryly. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Sweet dreams, Loverboy," Jack said before Tony heard the click that signaled his call being disconnected.

Tony hung up his phone, deleted all his messages, and drifted to his bedroom on a cloud of contentment. His happiness escalated slightly at the sight of his blue velvet comforter and gray cotton sheets already turned down. Maria, his housekeeper, always took good care of him.

Shucking out of Jack's sweater, he opened his closet and hung it on an empty hanger. That done, he pulled his shirt off and threw it into his laundry basket by his vanity; his pants and boxers followed afterward.

He walked over to the bed and, gingerly lifting his covers, slipped between the sheets. After the days he'd had, the feeling of 800 thread count sheets against his naked skin made him hum in pleasure.

There was a short bout of wriggling while Tony got settled. Finally finding a comfortable position, he exhaled heavily. He had one last thought before slipping into Dreamland.

_'The only thing that would make this night any better would be having a naked Gibbs to cuddle.'_

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**A/N: There. Now I don't feel guilty for not updating anything. Don't expect to hear from me for months! JK, but please REVIEW!**

**~S.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So...you didn't have to wait a month. Yippee for you. Just so you know, this chapter has a few warnings. They include: SEMI-GRAPHIC SLASH, EMOTIONAL!TONY, and SEMI-CARING!VANCE. Congratulations. I hope you enjoy it.**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (spelling/grammar fix, sentence rearrangement, paragraph overhaul)  
**

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_Large hands ran up and down Tony's sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He shivered as the wandering hands slid down his torso, lightly brushing over his flat stomach._

"_You're so beautiful like this," a masculine voice whispered in his ear. A warm, wet tongue brushed against his earlobe before tracing a burning path down his neck that caused Tony to whimper._

"_God. . ."_

_The hands slid down to his knees, nudging Tony's legs open before sliding up the inside of his thighs._

"_So beautiful," the voice repeated, rough and husky. "Open your eyes. . .Look at me.."_

_Weakly, Tony cracked his eyes open. A heated pair of blue eyes stared at him from Gibbs's face. The other man smiled at him, bending down to kiss him again when-_

-/-

A shrill alarm yanked Tony out of his dream, leaving him unsatisfied and a little heartbroken. Quiet sobs forced their way out of his throat as he turned over, shoving his face into the pillow. Curling into the fetal position, he ignored the ringing alarm for several minutes before it finally quit.

He sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring at the gray ceiling blankly.

'I guess it'll just be one of those days,' Tony sighed again, this time internally, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He groaned as his spine cracked, followed by his hips, knees, and ankles. Whimpering quietly, he shuffled to the closet and pulled out a lightweight black suit with silver pinstripes and a metallic gray dress shirt to wear under it.

Walking over to the vanity, Tony winced as he caught sight of his reflection while opening a drawer to get a pair of underwear. His face was absent of color except the dark purple rings under his eyes and his hair was dull and lank against his skull.

He quickly took a shower and brushed his teeth. Drying his hair with a towel, Tony dressed and slipped on his socks before dropping the towel into the laundry basket. He swiped his wallet and keys off the vanity and walked to the closet, opening the door and pulling out a heavy wool coat.

There was a loud 'snick' as the closet door closed and Tony padded across the thick carpet to the living room, eager to grab his shoes and bag and leave.

As he walked out of the apartment, he promised himself that he wouldn't think about the dream all day.

-/-

"Tony!" Bridget waved frantically as he pulled up to the law firm. "Hey, baby!"

"Hi, Bridget," Tony said, smiling at the girls in front of him. "Hi, Rebecca. Michelle."

The other two girls nodded, contrasting their friend and partner's maniacal greeting. Tony smiled at them all as they piled into the car. As they settled in, his thoughts involuntarily shifted to their looks and their jobs.

Rebecca O'Feely was the stereotypical Irish woman; she was short and quick to anger with fiery red hair and green eyes. Her method of questioning someone on trial reminded Tony of a snake- on the defensive until the right moment and then striking over and over again, crippling her opponent.

Bridget Praxton looked like a sorority girl with her platinum blonde hair and empty blue eyes. Most people underestimated her ability as a civil suit attorney until they had already given their soul to her.

Finally, the leader of the group, was Michelle Ryker. She was a hide-in-plain-sight kind of girl with typical brown hair and brown eyes. She was a criminal defense lawyer who, if her clients were proven guilty, threw them to the wolves with the kind of disappointment a mother would show when given a bad report card. She took each failure as a personal affront; luckily, she didn't fail much.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Tony stayed silent as he drove towards N.C.I.S. headquarters. The silence stayed until the building was in sight.

"So," Michelle began bravely. "When do we get to meet Gibbs?"

"When Hell freezes over," Tony answered firmly. "You've been asking me that ever since you found out how I feel and the answer has never changed."

"Not yet, anyway," Bridget muttered under her breath, causing the other two girls to nod in agreement.

He pulled into 'his' parking space and shut the engine off before turning to look at the three girls.

"We are here to see Leon Vance," he said. "No one and nothing else, understand?"

Bridget sniffled, "Yes, Tony-baby."

He eyed to two in the backseat until they both nodded. "All right, let's go."

Exiting the car, he went to the passenger side and opened the door, helping each woman out of the car. He wrapped his arm around Bridget and Rebecca's waists and smiled when they tucked their faces into his neck. They walked through security slowly so Michelle, who was walking behind them and closely observing their surroundings, could keep up with them.

"Have a pleasant day, Agent DiNozzo," the security guard at the door said, his eyes wide as he watched the four people walk through.

Tony flashed a leer towards the guard and replied, "Oh, I'm sure I will."

In sync, the women giggled, happy to feed the rumors that the guard was sure to start. As the door closed behind them, Tony groaned, "Thanks a lot, girls. Now will they not only _think_ I'm an immature womanizer, but they'll also have what they'll think is irrefutable proof."

"Are you sure it's the 'they' you're worried about?" Bridget asked lightly as they entered the elevator.

"Or just Gibbs?" Rebecca finished.

Michelle rolled her eyes and patted Tony's back softly. "Give it up, girls. I guess we'll just have to wait for another time to meet the infamous Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

At that moment, the elevator arrived at its destination, the opening doors revealing the somewhat quiet bullpen and Gibbs's face.

Rebecca, Bridget, and Michelle burst into quiet giggles again while Tony flushed darkly.

"Hi, Boss," he said in a strangled voice, pulling the girls out of the elevator and around Gibbs. "Going for coffee already?"

Gibbs stepped into the elevator, turning and raising an eyebrow at Tony's inquiry.

"Which would totally be your own business if you were," Tony hurried to add in a squeaky voice. "Going for coffee, that is."

Gibbs glared at him silently until the elevator doors closed.

Sighing, Tony hung his head in defeat. "Bye, Boss."

The girls exchanged sad looks before Michelle stepped up and pulled on Tony's arm. "C'mon, Anthony. Let's go see the Director."

"Yeah," he whispered sadly, turning and leading the trio in the direction of the stairs. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about McGee and Ziva. He was rudely reminded when he reached his desk.

"Bringing your flavors of the week to work now, Tony?" Ziva asked lightly. "I must say, they are very pretty."

"They're also people, Zee-vah," Tony replied, glaring weakly. "You're supposed to talk _to _them, not _about _them."

McGee popped his head around his computer screen.

"Hi, girls," he said shortly.

They exchanged a look before replying, in unison once again, "Hi, McGee."

Together, McGee and Ziva watched as Tony and the trio of girls walked up the stairs to the Director's office.

"Why do you think they are here, McGee?" Ziva asked, tracking them with her dark eyes.

"I have no idea," McGee replied, turning back to his computer. "They look professional though. Lawyers, maybe?"

"The sixty-four dollar question is, Ma-Gee," Gibbs said, coming around the partitioning. "Why does DiNozzo need a team of lawyers to speak to the Director?"

"Now, if only we knew the sixty-four dollar answer," McGee said, looking across the bullpen at Ziva.

"I am thinking that is what Gibbs wants us to find out," she replied, scrutinizing Gibbs's tense, uncomfortable stance.

Despite the niggling of doubt in the back of his mind, McGee said, "On it, Boss."

-/-

"Stay here," Tony ordered the woman. They nodded and made themselves comfortable on the plastic chairs outside Vance's office. He eyed them slowly before turning to the receptionist who was watching them discretely.

"Hey, Cynthia," he said, leaning his hip against her desk. "Vance called me two days ago. Said I needed to see him before I returned to work."

"Yes, I know," Cynthia said. "Do you have legal counsel?"

Tony pointed behind him to where Rebecca, Bridget, and Michelle were sitting. "Well, they certainly aren't my paparazzi."

She laughed quietly, shaking her head, and pressed the intercom. "Director Vance, Agent DiNozzo and his lawyers are here to see you."

A crackle of static, then a reply. "Send them in, please, Cynthia."

"Yes, sir," she said before waving Tony and the girls into Vance's office.

Vance sat at his desk, hands folded and face set. He motioned to the four chairs set in front of his desk. "Please. Sit down."

"Thank you," they said as they sat down together- Michelle, Rebecca, Tony, and then Bridget.

Vance eyed them cautiously, his dark eyes weighing on every detail. Finally, he opened a file on his desk and swept a cursory glance over what was written there.

"Agent DiNozzo," he began, setting the file to the side and raising his face to Tony's once more. "It has come to my attention that the late Director Shepard asked you to partake in a long-term undercover operation."

Shifting uneasily as a wave of remembered hurt flood his senses, Tony licked his lips in a nervous gesture before saying, "Er. . .not to speak ill of the dead, Director, but she didn't exactly _ask._"

"Did she order you?" Vance asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"No, sir," Tony answered in a quiet, firm voice. "She. . .well, I guess the polite term would be blackmail."

Vance sighed and slumped in his chair a little. "I was afraid of that. Please, explain to me exactly how you came to be a part of her operation."

Bridget sat forward, ice in her eyes, and asked. "Why do you want to know, Director? Are you hoping to use the information Mr. DiNozzo was blackmailed with to get him fired?"

Startled, Vance stared at her before refuting her accusation firmly. "No."

"Then why have you asked us here, Director Vance?" Rebecca asked, looking up from where she was meticulously picking at her nails.

The Director sighed, "N.C.I.S. is a reputable agency, Agent DiNozzo, and SecNav doesn't want us to be known for Directors who blackmail their agents into operations. I asked you here to settle this issue in private before you took it to court, as is your right."

"What issue are we here to settle?" Tony asked, his eyes confused and troubled.

"The emotional trauma associated with the operation is cause for monetary compensation," Vance said. "However, since you were blackmailed to begin with, the information used to blackmail you would determine the amount. Could you tell me exactly what happened?"

Tony sighed and tilted his head, thinking back. His eyes glazed over in memory. "She approached me just a few days after Gibbs left us- the agency. The team was in shreds. McGee was back to his stuttering, nervous Probie ways. Ziva had to get her orders from Shepard; she didn't respect me enough to follow mine. I had to follow Abby around to mop up the black tear puddles. I felt like my whole life had fallen apart around me and Shepard came to me with something I could control, to an extent."

He looked up only to catch his breath at Vance's expression. The Director's eyes were filled with a mixture of disgust, anger, and understanding.

"Go on," the Director urged quietly through gritted teeth.

"I felt like the whole thing was a major betrayal to Gibbs," Tony choked out. His eyes were burning and his breath was starting to hitch. Sadness mixed with anger mixed with hate mixed with hurt. "She knew that and used what she could to get me to agree to the op."

Vance breathed out heavily and rested his head on his hands, locking his eyes with Tony's. "Did she threaten you with your job?"

Tony nodded shortly as he tugged on his suit jacket fretfully. "She said that. . .if I refused. . .when Gibbs came back, she'd make sure my feelings for him would keep me out of every government job in the U.S., let alone tear my life apart."

He shuddered, breathing through his mouth so he wouldn't throw up or, worse, cry. God. . .the way Shepard had played him, had _used _him. Raising his head from where he had been staring at the floor, he continued in a strong, quietly raging voice.

"In the whole eight years I've worked with Gibbs, I have never let my feelings get in the way of my job," Tony said. "I've kept my personal life and my work life separate and she had no right to use one against the other."

Leaning forward, Vance ran his eyes over Tony's figure before finally breaking down and asking the one question to which he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"What feelings was she talking about?"

Tony exhaled shakily before turning to lock eyes with Vance.

"I'm in love with Gibbs."

* * *

**A/N: And one other short note. I'm already half-way through Chapter 4. So it could be up tomorrow. Or next weekend. Yaaaay. Please Review!**

**~S.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ooooh, look at me updating for the third week in a row! You people are so good at reviewing, I decided to update AGAIN. Yaaay! It's kind of a filler chapter (but only if you know what's gonna happen next, which you don't). ENJOY!**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (paragraph overhaul)  
**

* * *

"_I'm in love with Gibbs."_

There was silence in the office as Vance gazed at Tony disbelievingly and Tony gazed back indifferently. Finally, Vance sighed softly, breaking the staring contest.

"I'm not going to use your feelings against you, DiNozzo," Vance murmured, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Why not?" Tony asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and lingering anger. "You hate me."

Vance's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Hate you? I don't hate you."

Snorting derisively, Tony replied, "Right. And I'm the Sugar Plum Fairy."

"Well. . ." the Director said slowly. "You are pretty good at undercover work. Who's to say the suits aren't fake and dresses are more your thing? But that's beside the point. Why do you think I hate you?"

Tony stared blankly for a few seconds before snapping again. "Of course you hate me! You blame me for Shepard's death, you take over here, and then you rip me away from the people I care about to post me on a ship hundreds of miles away!" he said, growing more and more angry until he jumped up and glared at Vance accusingly.

However, Vance stood calmly and leaned forward, placing his hands palm down on the desk.

"Posting you as Agent Afloat on the Seahawk and the Reagan was not about punishment, Agent DiNozzo," he said smoothly. "Most agents see that as a promotion."

"I didn't."

"I know that now," Vance confirmed. "However, at that time, I had just been bumped from Special Agent to Director and I had orders from the top to find a mole. I did it in the best way I knew how."

The anger Tony had harbored since Shepard's takeover bled away. In a valiant effort to keep a hold on at least a little rage, he said, "Suppose it didn't hurt that it gave you a chance to prove to Gibbs that you were top dog."

True to comparison, Vance barked out a short laugh. "I swear that was just an unexpected perk."

Tony eyed him one last time and sighed. "All right," he said, sitting back down between Rebecca and Bridget. "So you're really a nice guy. What are we doing here?"

The switch-flip was so quick that Vance found himself following it by instinct. He settled back into his plush leather chair. "Have you ever heard the terms emotional trauma or reparations?"

The four on the other side of the desk snorted. "One too many times," Michelle cracked out like a whip.

Bridget spoke up, "You want to pay Tony to keep him silent about the Shepard affair."

The Director sighed. "Trust me, wanting to has nothing to do with it."

Flashing a quick grin at the girls, Tony asked, "How much are we talking?"

"That's the reason why I wanted you to bring your lawyers," Vance said. "You understand that it won't be much, yes?"

Tony shrugged, "To be honest, Director, I don't want anymore of the agency's money than I'm due. That op was my choice, technically, and so any emotional trauma would be my fault."

Vance raised a single brow. "That's a rather rational way to look at it, DiNozzo. I still have orders to smooth this over, though. Technically, since it's already your money, what do you want me to do with it?"

Thinking about it for a while, Tony finally came up with a brilliant plan. At least, it was brilliant to him.

"I'd like to give the people who helped me go through that, knowingly or not, a little thank you," he said, his eyes sparking with joy. "So, it would just be the MCRT plus Abby, Ducky, and Palmer."

"How much of a thank you?" Vance asked curiously.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Just divide the baseline equally."

"What about you?"

"I don't want any of it," Tony said, his eyes hardening.

Vance nodded in understanding. "All right, I'll make sure the payroll clerk knows that an extra fifty thousand dollars be added to the earnings of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Timothy McGee, Ziva David, Abigail Sciuto, Donald Mallard, and Jimmy Palmer."

"Fifty...?" Tony repeated quietly. "Just how much were you going to be giving me, Director Vance?"

"Three hundred thousand was baseline," informed the Director. "But I could go no higher than five hundred thousand."

"My sanity must not be worth much," Tony muttered in a slightly depressed voice.

Gazing at him knowingly, Vance said, "Not to SecNav, no."

Shrugging, Tony replied, "Oh, well. It's not worth much to anyone anymore."

Michelle spoke up, her voice soothing and professional. "That's still a more than generous offer for emotional trauma. Isn't it, Anthony?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. I just want this whole mess to be over. The Gibblets will be happy with their bonuses, I hope."

"I'll clear it with SecNav," Vance said, standing to show them out. "You'll hear from me again soon, I'm sure.

Tony, Michelle, Bridget, and Rebecca all stood and made their way out of Vance's office. Before Tony reached the door, Rebecca grabbed his arm.

"Tony, wait," she said. "Why did you give that money to them? You don't like them that much and you know yourself that they don't deserve it."

Not noticing that Cynthia was discretely listening in, Tony shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "They all think I owe them something anyway. At least this way, I don't owe them anything anymore."

Michelle sighed and linked arms with him. "You never did, Anthony."

Tony led the girls outside, speaking quietly as he did. "Then now I never will."

The girls exchanged a look and nodded together.

"Tony," Rebecca spoke softly into his ear as they swept down the stairs. "You know we still have questions about that last change to your Will."

They were getting close to Tony's desk so, knowing that Ziva and McGee would be trying to get some dirt on him, he tilted his face so no one would be able to read his lips before murmuring, "No, you don't. You're going to go to the firm and put it through just like you have the last few changes, no questions asked. Understand?"

"It's getting late," she continued in a louder voice, her eyes angry yet understanding. "I'm sure you'll be needed here so we've decided to catch a cab back to the firm."

Nodding, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty dollar bill.

"Here," he said. "Since I can't take you back like I promised."

"Sure," Bridget accepted, striking out quickly and taking the money. "Walk us to the elevator?"

Tony shook his head. "I'm sure you can find your way. I'll watch though."

Michelle snickered under her breath, tracing her eyes over the bullpen. "Hate to see leave, but love to watch us go?"

"Something like that."

When they reached Tony's desk again, McGee and Ziva looked up blatantly while Gibbs watched out of the corners of his eyes.

"Bye, Tony-baby!" Bridget squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

He returned her hug quickly and uncomfortably. "Bye, Bridget."

She backed off and Rebecca took her place. "Tony," she said, standing on her toes and pressing a light kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye."

Raising a hand to wipe off the pink lipstick he could feel, Tony bent down and returned the kiss, barely grazing her face.

Rebecca joined Bridget and Michelle turned toward Tony from where she had been Gibbs-watching. "Anthony," she nodded, her voice charged with a light smugness.

"Michelle," he replied, a question in his eyes. She shook her head, winking, and led the other two girls away as Tony sat at his desk. He watched them walk until they stepped into the elevator. He could feel Ziva, McGee, and Gibbs watching him but he ignored them.

***ping***

Turning his head, Tony looked at his computer screen. A pop-up alerted him to the fact that ElfLord6 was asking him to chat. He sighed and opened the chat box.

**VerySpecialAgent:** _What do you want, Probie?_

**ElfLord6:** _Gibbs wants to know why you need a whole team of lawyers to speak to the Director._

**VerySpecialAgent:** _Figures he'd know they were lawyers._

**ElfLord6:** _Just answer the question, Tony. Please!_

Tony looked over at McGee, unsurprised to find him staring at him pleadingly. He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the screen to type a reply.

**VerySpecialAgent:** _I'll answer Gibbs._

**ElfLord6:** _So, why?_

**VerySpecialAgent:** _Last time I checked, Probie, you were definitely not Gibbs._

Logging out of the interoffice chat service, Tony leaned back in his chair, leering when Ziva raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"DiNozzo!"

Nearly falling, Tony jumped up. "Yes, Boss?"

Gibbs eyed him closely before standing and turning to make his way to the elevator. "With me," he called over his shoulder.

"Yes, Boss!" Tony confirmed, running after the older man.

They met at the elevator and Tony watched as Gibbs stabbed viciously at the down button with his index finger.

He winced. 'He's pissed,' Tony thought, trying not to freak out as he entered the empty elevator after Gibbs.

They barely moved before Gibbs stopped the elevator. He turned towards Tony and eyed him up and down, his eyes catching every detail. Even the barely there rings around his eyes and the messily tucked in shirt.

"Tony, are you okay?" Gibbs asked, blurting the first thing that reached his lips. He winced internally. That was definitely not what he WANTED to say.

"Yeah, Boss, I'm fine," Tony leered. "Best night of my life last night. You know how it goes."

"I don't know," Gibbs shook his head. "With the girls you came in with?"

Tony copied the older man's head shake. "No, they're just my lawyers."

"Rule thirteen not mean anything to you, DiNozzo?"

'Fuck.'

"Eheheh," Tony grinned falsely and tilted his head innocently, shrugging. "You know I'd do anything you ask, Boss, but I gotta do as the Director says. Little Tony has to play nice in the sandbox or he'll be sent to time out again."

Gibbs's perceptiveness heard the bitterness in Tony's last sentence and latched on to it. "I'm guessing time out isn't the corner of the bullpen."

Grinning again, but no more real than the last time, Tony laughed lightly before saying, "Who knows, Boss? Maybe I'll tell you all about it sometime."

'You will,' Gibbs vowed to himself, raking his eyes over Tony's worn out figure one more time. He reached over and started the elevator again, pressing the button for the bullpen.

When they reached their destination, Gibbs said, "Tonight. My house. 21:00. You can tell me all about it then."

Tony could only watch, dumbfounded, as Gibbs exited the elevator.

* * *

**A/N: Yaaay, look at the foreshadowing! *points at plot-holes* I'm just kidding! Anyways, please REVIEW! I already have a great idea for chapter five and I cant get it written without the knowledge that it's going to get read, y'know? So, please, REVIEW!**

**~S.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Wow. . .an update! I hope that, while you've all been patiently waiting for this update, you've enjoyed my new NCIS fanfics! Even if you didn't, that's okay cuz you can enjoy this now!**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (word change)  
**

* * *

A cool breeze blew softly down the street. Tony DiNozzo shivered where he stood on his boss's doorstep. He had been standing there for almost ten minutes, debating the repercussions of talking to Gibbs. He might let something loose that was supposed to stay tightly under wraps.

_'Oh well,'_ Tony sighed. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened in front of him. At the sight of him, Gibbs stopped short.

For a few moments, the two men stared at each other in surprise, neither of them knowing quite what they were going to do next. Tony traced his gaze over Gibbs's figure, committing the sight of the older man in sweatpants and no shirt to memory for a later date. Little did he know, Gibbs was doing the same; in one assessment, he had every detail of Tony's appearance in his memory bank.

Finally, Gibbs stood back from the doorway, keeping his hand on the knob as he opened the door wider. "Well, are you gonna come in, DiNozzo?"

At Gibbs's dry voice, Tony immediately replied, "Yes, Boss."

He was again surprised when Gibbs grabbed his forearm after the door shut behind him. Green eyes looked to the older man imploringly, a question obvious in the mossy gaze.

"Not Boss," Gibbs replied gruffly. "Not tonight."

"All right," Tony said acquiescently, following Gibbs into the living room. He stood by the couch, leaning his hip against the side and crossing his arms over his chest. They tightened when the coolness from the outside streets seemed to seep into the house, causing him to shiver.

"Sit."

Nodding, the Italian settled into the corner of the couch and watched as Gibbs went into the kitchen, coming back some time later with two beers. He declined when offered.

"So. . ." he started nervously.

"What was that at the office today?" Gibbs asked abruptly.

Thrown off course, Tony just blinked for a few minutes, staring at the man before him in shock.

"Well?" the older man prodded after what he thought was too long of a silence.

"Uh. . ." Tony started. He absently ran his palms down his thighs, only noticing when he felt faint tremors in his fingertips. "The Director. He wanted to see me and wanted to make sure I had some sort of legal support."

Steely blue eyes observed the man's restlessness. "Why?"

The movements of Tony's hands stuttered to a stop and, again, he held himself tightly. "Something about reparations? Shepard-related business. SecNav didn't want me to do anything rash to expose the fact that N.C.I.S. was almost ran into the ground. Our reputation is bad enough, y'know?"

Gibbs nodded, setting his beer bottle on the coffee table next to the other one. "How much?"

Muttering into his chest, Tony tightened his arms until he felt tiny pinpricks of pain spread from where his fingernails were just barely digging into his sides. A gut feeling told him that something serious was about to go down, putting him on the defensive.

"I don't speak gibberish, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, pushing him to speak louder.

"Three hundred thousand," Tony finally repeated, in a voice that was just above a whisper.

Setting back against the couch, a quick flash of surprise flicked through Gibbs's gaze. "That's quite a bit. What's it going to?"

Tony shrugged. "I have no clue. It's not mine."

Gibbs tilted his head just slightly, a hint of confusion surrounding him. "What do you mean it's not yours?"

"I gave it away."

"You, Tony DiNozzo, playboy extraordinaire, just _gave away _three hundred thousand dollars," Gibbs said dryly.

Flinching internally, Tony nodded. "If I kept it, it just would've made me feel worse about the whole situation. Like I was paid to feel what I felt."

The living room filled with silence as each man contemplated the meaning of that last sentence. Tony felt as if he had revealed too much information. That Gibbs would sneer and tell him he didn't care how he felt. However, Gibbs was too busy feeling guilty for the predicament that Tony had ended up in and was hoping that, some day, the younger man would forgive him.

"What did you give it to?" Gibbs finally asked, trying to break the silence.

"Uh. . ." Tony hesitated. "Not a what. More a who. Or, more accurately, several whos."

Raising an eyebrow, Gibbs stared at Tony with questioning eyes. For a long moment, Tony didn't answer. He just turned his head away and stared unseeingly at the wall.

"Tony?"

"Well, I felt like I owed a lot of people for putting up with me during those months undercover. My attitude was terrible, as was my overall personality. But they stuck by me anyway."

Again, the heavy feeling of guilt crashed over Gibbs like a tidal wave, making him wince imperceptibly. "You wanna tell me who those people are?"

"Not really," Tony muttered, staring a hole into the wall.

Gibbs just stared at him with the expression that eventually broke down everybody's resistance, no matter how strong it was. He knew it was unfair-that the money was Tony's business and he could do what he wanted with it, even give it away-but something in his gut was telling him to keep going with his line of questioning. And he always listened to his gut.

"Tell me," he said when it was clear that his stare wouldn't work without Tony looking at him. He would bet that that was _why _Tony refused to look at him.

Tony shifted uneasily. "Well. . .I just told the Director to divide the baseline equally between Abby, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, and. . ."

"And?" Gibbs prodded when Tony trailed off.

Flinching, Tony dug his fingers into his side, sighing when the added pain took the edge off of his nervousness. Feeling Gibbs stare at him, he dropped his gaze and murmured, "And you."

Gibbs blinked. "Me? Tony. . .I wasn't even there when you were saddled with that op! In fact, if I had been there you probably wouldn't have had to do it anyway. You don't owe me anything."

"Maybe not for that," Tony conceded. He hesitated slightly before pushing all his insecurities down. He straightened up and dropped his hands into his lap, staring at Gibbs with a knowing gaze as he said, "But I do owe you."

In response to the understanding in Tony's gaze and the confidence in his stance, Gibbs shifted uneasily. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he'd take it as it came. Muscles tightened in anticipation. "Why do you think you owe me, Tony?"

"I do owe you," Tony said quietly, tracing over Gibbs's stiff jaw and defensive posture. "I know that you know how I feel. About you. How I've always felt about you."

Gibbs reared back. He was close to denying the accusation when he caught Tony's eye. There, in the gaze of the man who always had his six no matter what, Gibbs saw love and understanding. And it was nice, until he caught sight of what was behind that. Resignation and fear flickered deep in Tony's eyes.

"I didn't," Gibbs started. "Not before the coma. But. . .when Ziva came to get me at the hospital. . .it just felt _wrong._ I didn't know who I was waiting on, but I knew it wasn't her. And then when I got to the office. . .and you were there. . .I called you McGee. You looked so hurt. I could tell that you knew I didn't have my memory back and I could see it in your eyes. You were hurt but you looked as if you hadn't expected me to remember you. Like you weren't anything special."

Tony dropped his head, his confidence faltering. "I'm not."

"That's not true," Gibbs refuted. "But we'll come back to that. When I handed you my badge, I could see the sadness, the resignation. You thought that it was going to be the last time you saw me. But down in Mexico, as I was getting my memories back, I kept coming back to the memories of you. And I knew. I knew that there was more there than just a subordinate's loyalty to their boss. Tony. . .I knew that you loved me."

Silence fell over the living room. It didn't last long, however, as Tony let out a watery chuckle.

"I think that's more than I've ever heard you say, Boss," he choked out, not daring to look up at Gibbs.

"Tony. . .I said we'd come back to you not being anything special. You are special," Gibbs said quietly. He put a hand under Tony's chin and forced the younger man to look at him. "You're special to me. And that's why I never brought up how you felt. It's because. . ."

"Because what?" Tony whispered, staring at Gibbs's face. He was too scared to look in the man's eyes, but he was also too scared to look away.

Gibbs took a shaky breath and leaned forward slightly. As he spoke, his warm breath slid over Tony's skin. "Because I love you too, Tony."

Shocked, Tony snapped his gaze to Gibbs's eyes. In the steely gaze of the other man, he saw the love and the affection that Gibbs's normal brusqueness didn't show.

"Then. . ." Tony said, in a voice that was barely audible. "Please, Gibbs. . ."

"Not Gibbs," the older man whispered back. "Jethro. Remember?"

Tony sighed somewhat dreamily, "Jethro."

A smile flicked over Jethro's face as he leaned closer. "Tony," he acknowledged before pressing close to the Italian.

The younger man flicked his eyes up, looking at Jethro through his thick eyelashes. "Can I. . .?"

Jethro nodded and repeated Tony's earlier plea. "Please."

Simultaneously, the two men leaned forward. Their lips met in a sweet and chaste first kiss, their love for one another sparking and heating the air around them. All the stress and fear and anxiety bled out of them, allowing them to sink into the kiss with nothing else on their mind.

As their eyes slid closed, Tony's lips parted underneath Jethro's. The older man smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue into Tony's mouth, sliding against the roof of his mouth.

Tony whimpered and pulled back. Resting his forehead against Jethro's, he whispered again, "I love you."

Jethro gave a rare smile and reciprocated. "I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N: Yaaaaaaay! What did you think? PLEASE REVIEW! And just so you know, this is the last official chapter. There is an epilogue coming soon, so be on the look out for it, okay?**

**~S.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I lied. This is the next to last chapter. And the last chapter might be a while so SAVOR this one! Enjoy!**

**EDIT: 18 June 2011 (sentence change, punctuation change, grammar fix)  
**

* * *

Jittery beyond belief, Tony hustled into work early on the twenty-sixth of November. It was shaping up to be the worst Wednesday in the history of Wednesdays.

For a start, he'd woken up at four in the morning thinking that he was late for work; naturally, he had rushed to get ready. He didn't notice that it was so early until he was half way to N.C.I.S. Then, the new security guard had said that his ID didn't match with the system's record. So of course it had taken what felt like forever to get that sorted. Finally, on his way into the elevator, he twisted his ankle. His ankle! The icing that covered this stale cake was that Jackson wanted him to invite Jethro to Thanksgiving in Stillwater. He had put it off the whole month and tomorrow was the big day.

They hadn't done anything more than go out to dinner and kiss a few times and Tony was supposed to invite his boy-boss to dinner at his own father's house? Life couldn't ever be fair.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Tony stumbled out, catching himself on a partition wall just before he tilted enough to fall. Pain was streaking up and down his ankle, causing him to wince with every step he took. It hurt so bad he almost cried in relief when he caught sight of his desk.

Tony slid into his chair and sighed, the weight being taken off his ankle causing an exhilarating feeling that made his ankle and foot feel almost weightless. "Thank God. I don't know what I would've done if Jethro saw me do that."

"Saw you do what, Tony?"

Wincing, Tony raised his head slowly to meet the eyes of his boss/boyfriend. Those blue eyes were so sharp and suspicious; he could do nothing but drop his chin to his chest and mutter, "Nothing."

Jethro opened his mouth but was stopped from speaking by the arrival of Ziva and McGee. He scowled and went into 'Gibbs-mode', stomping to his desk and dropping into his chair. Knocking his empty coffee cup into the trashcan, he was too distracted to notice when the two junior agents turned on Tony.

"Tony, do you know anything about it?" Ziva raised an eyebrow in question.

Stomach sinking, Tony feared that he knew everything about 'it'. After all, there wasn't much that could make this day any worse than it was turning out to be already. He sent up a quick-and most probably futile-prayer and relaxed in his chair, putting his feet on his desk and trying to give off an air of nonchalance. "About what?"

McGee took the opportunity to butt into the conversation. "A select few of us have been given a special bonus."

"And which 'us' would that be, McSocial? Nerds'R'Us or Probies Anonymous?"

Frowning severely, McGee shook his head and turned away to put his stuff down. When he turned back, Ziva had already continued.

"Apparently, the Major Crimes Response Team has been awarded a prestigious bonus. Both McGee and I have found an extra fifty thousand dollars in our bank accounts," She paused, flicking a gaze over her shoulder then back quickly. "Do you suppose that Gibbs has received this money as well?"

"For that matter, have you?" McGee's eyebrows drew together.

Tony leaned forward quickly, his feet dropping to the floor and causing knife-like pinpricks of pain to stab into his ankle. He barely covered his wince as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Not that I've noticed. Don't you have work to do, McNosy?"

Moving to shake his head, McGee backed away in cautiousness. He thought that something he had said had set Tony on the edge. "You okay?"

"Maybe he did not receive the bonus and is jealous," Ziva smirked, tucking her bag away beside her desk. "It would not be the first time he is not the pet's teacher. He might be feeling unwanted."

"Teacher's pet, Ziva. Teacher's pet," Tony spat out, a little breathless. He was starting to think that the injury to his ankle was a bit more than a common twisting or sprain.

Her eyes widened and a glint of some unknown emotion entered her gaze. She dropped her head and spoke quietly, "I am sorry, Tony. Are you feeling well?"

Sighing, he said, "I'm fine."

McGee looked at Tony with a calculating gaze, before turning to Ziva. "Call Ducky."

She nodded and grabbed her phone. Dialing quickly, she relaxed when the call was answered. "Hello, Ducky. . .Yes, we are. . .I think so, but I think you should come up here. . .Please just come up. . .Thank you, Ducky. We will see you soon."

McGee turned to her at the sound of her phone dropping onto the desk. "Is he coming up here?"

"Yes," she turned to face Tony, who was being watched by everyone now. Even Gibbs was shooting him inscrutable glances. Not that Tony was aware of this, seeing as he had his head buried into his arms. Ziva shifted back to McGee. "In the spirit of the season, I am thankful that we haven't been called out on a case yet."

Flicking his eyes from Ziva to Tony to Gibbs and back to Ziva, McGee murmured, "I don't think you're the only one."

-/-

"Ducky?" Abby poked her head into Autopsy. "Duckman, are you here?"

She took a few steps closer to the sink and heard the doors slide close behind her. The sterile room was empty-or so she thought. She didn't notice the quiet hiss of the doors opening again.

"Here, Abby-gail."

Abby jumped and twisted, grinning widely when she saw the elder man standing behind her. "Ducky!" Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him quickly before backing off and tilting her head. She eyed him carefully, causing him to narrow his eyes.

"What are you up to, my dear girl?"

She shook her head. "I'm not up to anything! I just wanted to ask you a question."

Ducky moved to hang up his hat and coat before traveling towards his desk Sitting down carefully, he turned towards the young Goth and gestured for her to continue.

"Well. . ." Abby sucked her lip between her teeth and nibbled on it worriedly. Her usual glassy eyes were dark. "It's just. . .N.C.I.S. gave me this bonus and I don't know why or how or where it came from. I almost called Timmy about it but I didn't want him to be jealous. I still don't know how to really talk to Ziva. Gibbs has been hinky lately-I think he has a new redhead. Wouldn't that be weird? Gibbs with a real true exclusive girlfriend? Then again, I suppose even men his age nee-"

"Abby!" Ducky cut in loudly, having been trying to get her attention for the past few minutes. "Do not fret; Jethro is still single to my knowledge. Also, I have gotten this bonus as well."

Her eyes widened and she went to open her mouth again when the ringing of Ducky's phone interrupted her. Ducky reached into his pocket and frowned when he saw the name on the screen.

"Hello, Ziva. . .Is everyone already at the office?. . .Well, is there some kind of problem, my girl?" Ducky turned to face Abby, his eyes swirling with worry. "What's the problem?. . .Very well, I will be up there shortly."

As Ducky was closing his phone and sliding it back into his pocket, Abby was bouncing around him nervously. "What is it? Is someone hurt?"

The elder man ushered her out the door and into the elevator, pressing the button for the bullpen. When the metal doors slid closed, he turned to Abby with concern in his gaze and said, "I do not know."

In grim silence, the two rode the elevator up to the bullpen. Both were hoping that nothing too bad had happened.

-/-

"I don't need to see Ducky!" Tony nearly screamed. Ziva had called the medical examiner without a second thought and he was now on his way up here. "It's just a little sprain!"

"Sprain?" Ziva scoffed, trying to hide her worry behind a mask of blankness. "Tony, you nearly cried when your feet hit the floor. If it was truly a sprain, you would not react that way."

McGee took this opportunity to shift closer, leaning his hip against Tony's desk and crossing his arms. "What's going on, Tony? You've been really. . .hinky. . .lately."

As he stared at his Probie, Tony's mouth dropped open into a little 'o' of disbelief. "How have I been hinky?"

Shooting him a look that definitely was meant to be interpreted as 'Seriously?', McGee cracked. "You've quit telling us what you're doing on the weekends, you're always here super early, and you've been all jittery since we got in this morning! Like a scared rabbit or something."

"And the lawyers," Ziva broke in when McGee paused to take a breath. "Remember the meeting with the lawyers and the Director? You never did tell us what that was about, did you, Tony?"

Tony growled under his breath. "That's because it's none of your business, Zee-vah!" He turned towards Gibbs, hoping to find some reassurance. All he got, however, was a calculating gaze on an otherwise blank face. His heart jumped into his throat. He hoped that Gibbs didn't suspect something was going on that wasn't.

Ziva raised herself to her full height, looking mighty intimidating with her dark eyes and crackling aura. However, Tony was saved from her wrath by the arrival of Ducky and Abby.

"Anthony," Ducky greeted, stopping at his desk. "Isn't it a bit early to be causing such trouble?"

"What makes you think I caused this?" Tony asked, indignant.

Ducky chuckled while Abby hid an unladylike snort behind a pale hand. "My dear boy, I only know of one person to get these three as riled up as they are and that person is you. So why don't you save the protestations for later and just tell me why I am here?"

"Because Ziva is a worry wart," Tony muttered, carefully placing his leg on his desk. He pulled his pants leg up to show a swollen ankle that was a dark spectrum of color. "I think I need you to check out my ankle."

"I should say so! Why, this reminds me of the time just a few months after-"

"Duck," Gibbs interrupted, finally. "His ankle?"

"Oh, yes."

There was silence as Ducky bent down to examine said limb, 'hmm'-ing and 'ah'-ing for a few moments. When he finally stood up, tension in the bullpen had heighten to rare levels.

"Well?" Ziva pushed, tired of waiting.

"It is broken," Ducky nodded surely. He said it in the voice of someone who knew they were stating the obvious. "He should go to the hospital and get a cast. I imagine that you will be put on desk duty for the next six weeks or so, Anthony."

Tony groaned. "Fantastic."

-/-

Much later that night, after Tony got a cast for his ankle and Gibbs had driven him to his house, they sat in the living room listening to the crackle of the fireplace. Tony was stretched out on the couch, propping his feet on Jethro's lap and purring whenever the inclination to rub his good foot hit Jethro.

He was still a bit nervous about asking Jethro to go with him to Stillwater for Thanksgiving but since it was tomorrow, he didn't have much choice. Steeling himself, he nudged the other man with his good foot. "Jethro?"

Jethro grunted to show he was listening. Hesitating, Tony asked himself one more time if he thought this was the right thing to do. He was quiet for a bit too long, though, as Jethro finally spoke up.

"What is it, Tony?"

"Well. . ." Tony inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly. Sitting up, he faced Jethro with a serious expression. "Would you say we have a good relationship?"

Surprised, Jethro didn't know what to say. When he noticed how nervous his silence was making Tony, he hastened to reassure him. "I suppose so. I mean, I love you. How much better could it get?"

That coaxed a small, shy smile out of Tony. "I love you, too. It's just. . .doesn't romance include. . .well. . .romance?"

Silvery blue eyes narrowed. "Tony, are you saying you have a problem with us having sex?"

Relieved that Jethro was going to continue the conversation in his usual blunt manner, Tony grinned happily. Maybe they actually would get through this without any of the huge, catastrophic fights that Tony's previous relationships had ended with. At least, he hoped so. "Yes!"

"All right. . .what exactly is the problem?" Jethro asked slowly, trying to ignore the hurt that flashed through him at the thought that Tony didn't find him sexually appealing.

"We don't."

That wasn't what Jethro was expecting. "Don't what?"

"Have sex."

Jethro blinked blankly a few times. That _definitely _wasn't what Jethro was expecting. Relief rushed to his head, causing a feeling so heady he busted out laughing. Deep, velvety chuckles filled the living room.

"Jethro, this is serious!" Tony snapped when it was clear that the other man wasn't going to calm down any time soon.

The older man quieted and wiped his eyes, a few quiet giggles slipping out here and there. "I'm sorry, Tony, but I thought that the problem with us having sex _was _us having sex, not us _not _having sex."

"Uh. . ." Tony was officially confused. Thankfully for him, Jethro could read him a lot easier than he could read Jethro.

Pulling Tony to his side carefully, Jethro settled him against his chest and spoke again, "Tony, I thought that you didn't want to have sex with me and that was the problem. I never imagined that the real problem was that we didn't have sex."

Clarity fell on Tony suddenly. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was still uncomfortably insecure, "I just. . .I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. . .some reason why you didn't try to sleep with me. . ."

The arm wrapped around his waist tightened. "Never," Jethro promised. "I just didn't know what you were ready to do. In a relationship with a man, I mean. I didn't mean to make it seem like I was rejecting you."

Tony relaxed against Jethro's side, humming contentedly. "I know that. . .now."

They sat together, just enjoying each others' presence and listening to the fire snap and spit for a few minutes before Jethro decided that he just couldn't let the conversation drop.

"What brought this on, Tony?"

A weak chuckle slipped out from between Tony's lips. He turned his head slightly, just far enough to be able to peek up at the other man. He smiled shyly. "Jack wanted me to ask you to come up to Stillwater for Thanksgiving. I didn't know if you'd want to go with me or-"

"Wait," Jethro held up a hand, cutting Tony off. "You assumed that, since we don't have sex, I don't want to go with you to _my father's _house for Thanksgiving?"

"Well, sorta," Tony flushed lightly, dropping his head to stare at where their entwined hands laid on his lap. He played with Jethro's fingers nervously as he spoke. "I mean, we never go out anywhere or do anything so I. . ._might have _assumed that even though you said you love me, you didn't want to spend any unnecessary time with me."

There was silence. He winced. Great, now Jethro was angry.

The other man's arm tightened around him again, this time holding tight enough that he wouldn't slip when Jethro moved Tony onto his lap. He wrapped his other arm around Tony and held him in a pseudo hug, burrowing his face into the younger man's neck.

"Jethro?" Tony asked worriedly. It wasn't like the older man to be this affectionate. He was surprised even more when a warm, light kiss was placed on the junction between his neck and shoulder. "Jeth?"

Raising his head, Jethro placed his lips next to Tony's ear and whispered, "Tony. Don't ever think that I don't love you. No matter what happens-to us or anybody else-I'll always love you. So of course I'll go with you."

"Great," the younger man choked out, a silly grin on his face. "That's. . .that's great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. . .hey, Jethro?"

"Yes, Tony?"

Tony shifted in Jethro's arms, making sure the other man could see his face before breaking out into a predatory grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Does this mean we can have sex now?"

The laughter from early was back, shaking the two men as Jethro chuckled into Tony's neck warmly. His next words were slightly muffled, but Tony's ears caught them anyway.

"Don't ever change, Tony. Don't ever change."

* * *

**A/N: Yaaay! Wasn't that amazing? Oh, and a little side note: That is an intentional "Abby-gail" because sometimes on N.C.I.S. Ducky's accent makes it sound like he's saying Abby-gail rather than Abigail. Which I think is probably intentional xD. Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW! And since this is my next to last chapter, my favorite reviews will get individual responses at the beginning of the last chapter! **

**~Ciao, S!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is it, you guys. The last chapter. Ever. After a lot of editing and scrapping and rewriting, "Home is Where the Heart is" is finally done! Enjoy the last of it! ^-^**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tony asked for the eighteenth time since they got in the car and started the long drive to Stillwater.

Jethro rolled his eyes. "No, Tony. I want to show up on Jackson's doorstep with you and then lie to his face when he asks if anything is going on between us. And then I want to get that disappointed look that I know he'll give me when I lie because he knows I'm lying."

"You could've just said yes," Tony muttered, turning to watch the passing scenery.

Sighing, Jethro took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on Tony's leg, right above his knee. "I did say yes. The past seventeen times that you asked. I know you're nervous, Tony, but there's really nothing to be nervous about. Jackson knows that you want me and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew that I want you. He's good like that."

That startled a small chuckle out of Tony. "Apparently that's not the only thing he's good at."

Jethro shot Tony a questioning, suspicious look out of the corner of his eye. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked warily.

"The man's been propositioning me since I met him!" Tony waved his hand around to emphasize his point. "I guess he thinks he's a god in bed."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was," Jethro replied, ignoring a hot flash of jealousy.

It was Tony's turn to look inquisitive. "And what is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Well," Jethro drawled slowly, slipping his hand higher on Tony's leg. "I am his son after all."

A quiet, shaky breath.

Silence.

Then, Tony shrugged as if a fiery wave of desire hadn't just washed him and stroked the back of Jethro's hand. "I guess that just means that my dad's an animal in the sack."

"Tony. . ." Jethro growled lowly.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"We're still telling Jackson we're together."

"Dammit!"

-/-

A knocking reverberated through the living room where Jackson was stoking a fire. He looked at the door, then at the clock, and then back to the door. Shrugging, he went to greet his guests. Hopefully.

Pulling open the door, he grinned happily at the two flushed faces that greeted him. "Leroy. Tony. Come in."

Tony flashed him a sparkling smile and sped into the living room, immediately sitting down in front of the fire. He sighed as warmth bled into his hands, feet, and chest. The last thing he needed was a cold. Or worse, pneumonia.

Rolling his eyes at Tony's theatrics, Jethro entered the house with marginally less enthusiasm and greeted Jackson. "Hi, Dad."

Jackson ignored the greeting and pointed to Tony. "What's with Loverboy?"

"Loverboy?" Jethro asked, raising an eyebrow. Once again, he ignored the jealous spark.

"I told you," Tony piped up from his place in front of the fire. "Every sentence is a proposition."

Jackson grabbed the two duffel bags from Jethro's unsuspecting hands and headed towards the stairs. "Oh, is that what you told him to convince him to snatch you up? He never did want me to have anything he couldn't have."

Blinking in disbelief, Tony watched the old man climb the stairs before turning to Jethro, who was settling down on the floor beside Tony.

"I told you," Jethro copied Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes and shifted closer, shivering lightly.

Raising his arm to wrap it around Tony's shoulders, Jethro pulled away at the last minute. He eyed Tony's shaking form suspiciously. "You're not getting sick are you?"

"No!" the younger man shook his head furiously. "At least, I hope not. If I came home with a cold, Brad would kill me."

"Better not be," Jethro muttered, wrapping his arms around the Italian and pulling him into his lap. "The last thing I need during my holiday is my father turning into a mother hen."

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the flames dance and listening to the sound of Jackson shuffling around upstairs.

"Jethro?" Tony murmured quietly, not quite willing to break the moment.

"Mmm," Jethro hummed into Tony's neck.

Sighing, the younger man tilted his head back, resting it on Jethro's shoulder, before whispering, "I'm glad you decided to come with me."

Jethro's lips twitched a little as he replied, "Even though we don't have sex?"

Tony huffed, closed his eyes, and said, "Yeah. Even though we don't have sex. Yet."

-/-

"So, Tony, how was your Thanksgiving holiday?" Ziva queried, leaning against Tony's desk and looking down at him curiously.

A soft smile spread across the Italian's face. "It was. . .nice."

Intrigued, Ziva asked, "Just nice?"

Tony flushed a little at the memories but refused to comment too much. "Yeah."

At the sight of Tony's blush, Ziva opened her mouth to push further but was interrupted by a loud squeal of "Tony!" and the following thuds of platform boots on stairs.

A black and red blur shot itself at Tony, who had stood from his chair in preparation. Laughing lightly, Tony wrapped his arms around Abby. "What's this?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" the goth repeated over and over again, kissing Tony's cheeks with each repetition.

Suddenly wary, Tony pried Abby's arms off of him and pushed her away. He ignored the sticky feel of the Manic Panic Kiss of Death lipstick that was plastered all over his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling as if he should be on the defensive. "And why are you thanking me again?"

Abby grinned, her now pale lips stretching upward. "For the money, of course!"

"Abby-" Tony was cut off by Ziva.

"What money?"

Turning towards Ziva, Abby started talking excitedly. "You remember that fifty grand we all got, but Tony didn't? Well, I thought it was hinky at best, downright dirty at worst and since N.C.I.S. was where the money came from I thought that maybe I could get some answers from the Director. Before we all left for the holiday, I asked him why we all got bonuses and Tony didn't and he said that it was because Tony was the one who gave it to us!"

By this time, Tony's face was almost as dark as the lipstick covering it. He turned his head away from the slightly shocked, inquisitive stares of Ziva and McGee, who had walked in during Abby's explanation.

Sighing, he grit his teeth and explained in a rushed voice. "Look, the agency paid me off for the whole thing with The Frog and I didn't want it so I told Vance to split the baseline between you guys."

"Tony. . ." Ziva began. "Why would you do that?"

Sparks of shame skittered through Tony as he tightened his arms around his chest. "You all acted like I owed you something when Gibbs was gone. Like it was my fault and you expected me to pay out for it. So I did."

Abby stepped forward, stretching out her arms and trying to keep the tears at bay. "Oh, Tony. . ."

"Don't!" Tony sidestepped her and started to back out of the bullpen, his eyes wide. "Just. . .don't, okay? It's over and done with now."

McGee slumped against his desk and frowned. "Why didn't you tell us we were making you feel that way?"

"Are you kidding?" Tony snorted derisively. "For one thing, I barely had time to sleep, let alone talk about my _feelings._ For another, would you really have listened to me? Or would you have just told me to quit whining and suck it up?"

"Well, I feel terrible," Abby muttered from where she had slid to the floor, her back against Gibbs's desk.

"You are not the only one," Ziva said, looking down at the goth before looking back up at Tony with regret written all over her face.

Tony shook his head frantically. "That's not what this is about! I never wanted to make you guys feel bad. I just wanted to get rid of feeling like I _did _owe you. Which, later on down the road, I did."

"What are you saying?" McGee asked quietly, trying not to scare Tony away again.

"I'm saying. . ." Tony twisted his fingers together, nervous energy coursing through him and making him shake. His eyes darted around the bullpen, not wanting to look at the three people in front of him. A flash of blue caught his eye and he turned his head to see Jethro standing back behind McGee, Ziva, and Abby. The older man smiled slightly, his eyes soft and encouraging, causing a rod of confidence to slid down Tony's spine. "I'm saying that you guys are my friends and even though we all felt and acted pretty rotten while Gibbs was gone, you helped me get through the whole thing with The Frog and I wanted to thank you. The money is a thank you, okay?"

"You're welcome," Jethro spoke up, causing three heads to whip around and stare at him. "Now can we please get some work done?"

Everyone scrambled to their desks except for Abby, who jumped up and gave Tony one more kiss before skittering away, presumably down to her lab. As Jethro passed Tony's desk, he handed him a hand wipe.

"What's this for?" Tony asked, confused.

Ziva tossed him a compact, which he opened. He stared at his reflection incredulously before groaning.

"What?" McGee asked, trying not to laugh hysterically.

"This isn't going to come off for days!" Tony motioned to the mess of lipstick on his cheeks.

Jethro smirked slightly and said, "Never stays that long on me."

"That's because that's one kiss," Tony raised a single finger before pointing at his own face. "This is like, one hundred!"

"What is the matter, Tony?" Ziva teased. "Afraid your flavor of the week won't like it?"

Tony reared back and blinked blankly a few times. "Actually, I didn't even think of that."

As he caught sight of the laughter dancing in Jethro's eyes, he turned back to Ziva and said, "I think they'll find it a lot funnier than I do, to tell you the truth."

McGee finally broke, snickering quietly. Ziva looked at him, then Tony, then started to giggle uncontrollably. Tony scowled and tried to wipe away at least a little of the mess.

Jethro smiled slightly and swept his gaze over the bullpen.

_'It's good to be home.'_

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know. No sex. And I was really hoping I'd fit some in there somewhere. Oh well, I have plenty of other fics that I'm sure will have some. I really hoped you liked this last chapter. And even if you didn't, I hope you review to tell me!**

**~S.  
**


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